


dreams

by peggycarterisacat



Series: Rarepairs Week 2018 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Post WW1, Love Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggycarterisacat/pseuds/peggycarterisacat
Summary: They exchanged coded letters during the War.





	dreams

**Author's Note:**

> for rarepairs week on tumblr. day 3 prompts: love letters and "i thought you were a dream come true"
> 
> This from a project I've been working on for a long time-- I love this AU but this is like the third draft I've scrapped and am now rewriting. I've Frankenstein-ed some scenes together while also trying not to spoil my own story? Hopefully it will make sense. 
> 
> Context: due to some serious miscommunications, Arthur thinks they've just started dating and that Jaime needs to take things slowly because of trauma/internalized homophobia/etc. Jaime has no idea any of this is happening.

It was weeks before the first letter came through. Arthur had warned him that might happen — Jaime wasn't certain of the mission he'd been sent on, or how long it might take him. Bringing someone back from Essos, he thought? But he didn't know who or why.

"I'll write," Arthur had promised. "But I don't know how long I'll be away, where I'll be, or when — or if it'll even be safe to send letters."

That last afternoon together, Jaime sat sprawled on the floor, the new puppy snoring away in his lap and drooling on his knee. He couldn't help the goofy, exhausted grin that must be plastered on his face — it came naturally, tussling with a clumsy puppy. But Arthur's gaze was downcast, melancholy as he scratched her tiny forehead. Her paws twitched, deep in a dream — adorable. But it didn't bring a smile to Arthur's face.

He looked up into Jaime's eyes. "Will you wait for me while I'm away?"

The question was important to him — that much was clear. But Jaime couldn't imagine where else Arthur thought he might be. It wasn't like he would return to Casterly Rock — that hadn't been home to him since he was a teenager. Neither was Father's house here in King's Landing, or this penthouse apartment, for that matter. Nor the canvas tents and muddy trenches and stone cold cells that haunted his dreams.

"Where else would I be?"

"I only mean… it could be a long time. I wouldn't blame you if you left."

"I'm not going to leave."

That had pleased him. "Then I will look forward to my return."

Jaime supposed he must be as much a comfort to Arthur as the other way around — they both had their families and the few people who knew the truth of their actions, but they both also made enemies for their decisions during the war. Arthur understood that without explanation. He knew that every possible outcome of every choice was terrible. He'd seen that, by the end, it was more a mess of accounting than a struggle of men — lives reduced to numbers on paper as they learned how many must die to bring a nation to its knees.

The letter Jaime held in his hand woke memories — not pleasant ones, exactly, but ones where he'd had a sense of purpose. That wasn't something he'd had in a long time — not since before he'd lost his hand, before his supposed failures turned his reputation from celebrity to traitor, before he was held prisoner for months in Qarth.

He had been a hero once. Not just for shooting enemy aircraft from the sky — also for things more covert. Intelligence that gave them the advantage in battle, support given to Qohor's resistance that turned the city and ended a years-long siege, misinformation sown that scattered and disorganized the enemy command.

Stories that could never be told, because they weren't by the order of any official channel — ordered instead by Rhaegar in an attempt to circumvent his father's interference. The President was no true commander-in-chief, no matter that he liked to play at war — "I believe the original intent behind the title was a symbolic one," Arthur once said, the closest he ever came to criticizing anything.

Rhaegar's plans could not be uncovered by anyone on either side, so he brought only those he could trust into the fold. Jaime had been surprised but honored that he was counted among them, and his main task was to deliver information from Rhaegar's network of agents. Ciphers were useless — messages that were obviously encoded would raise suspicion, as would letters of unknown origin. So he exchanged letters with Arthur, who was then Major to Rhaegar's Colonel. They developed a code, held secret between the two of them, and Jaime played up his reputation as an arrogant flyboy with a lover everywhere he made land. They wrote each other words of love full of hidden meanings — movements, reports, missions successfully completed — and signed by names not their own.

This letter was yet another of those — addressed to a woman's name, signed by the persona Arthur had taken on, and filled with the sort of flowery sentiment Jaime couldn't imagine Arthur putting to paper in any kind of seriousness.

It was filled with his usual misdirection —  _ If you would write to me, my love, I will be in Pentos another fortnight at least — _ but his true aim was hidden behind other words, and it took Jaime the better part of an hour to recall and decipher it.

He'd found a lead in Pentos and intended to move on within the next few days — by now, he would already be gone. South, to meet a Lyseni businessman, then back up to Myr under a new cover. No one was following him yet — "I'm plain enough to disappear in a crowd," he'd said before he left. "Something you would have trouble with, I think." That wasn't true, and Jaime told him so. Arthur wasn't as recognizable as, say, a racer and stunt aviator turned ace fighter pilot, but he was by no means plain. He'd smiled when Jaime said that, but still changed the subject.

There was still smoke, he wrote — Pentos had been burned near the end of the War —and he was in poor health.

Jaime set the letter down. Arthur's lungs, damaged by poison gas, still gave him trouble. Just living in King's Landing took its toll on him — provided he avoided smoky bars, it was mainly factory smog. But though he and Ashara had moved farther away from the factories by the riverside, he still slowly worsened. It was a question always on Jaime's mind — how long he could continue to live here, and at what cost to his health?

And if he left, where would he go? Out to the countryside, back to Dorne? Thinking about that left Jaime's stomach tight and anxious — it was selfish, but he didn't want Arthur to leave. His life before they were reunited wasn't something he wanted to return to — that pit of aimlessness, each day blurring and running into the next, and nothing to look forward to. His only company was the persistent reminder of all the things he'd lost, all the things he was still losing.

Someday, maybe soon, he would lose Arthur, too.

He could not think of that now — he looked back to the letter. The last paragraphs were strange, and Jaime couldn't make any sense of them.

_ Before I left we spoke of first impressions and the nature of admiration — how feelings may change. _

Jaime had said that, when they first met, he thought Arthur was a pedantic jackass, too eager to assert his authority where it didn't belong — across the uncertain gap between the army and the newly created air force. He'd realized he shouldn't have said it just after he said it, for that first meeting had been a test of sorts. An attempt to determine if Rhaegar was right to trust him, a man he hadn't seen in years since the rift between Father and President Aerys.

But Arthur only laughed and asked what he'd done to earn Jaime's admiration. That was a difficult question to answer. It wasn't any one thing he'd done, but rather who he was. Not an idiot, unlike many other officers Jaime had worked with. He had morals in the face of atrocity and the orders that were handed down to them — and was creative enough in the interpretation of those orders to make life better for his men and the civilians living nearby. Even they had liked him. Thanks to that goodwill, Jaime was able to collaborate with them on a number of occasions, interpreting reconnaissance photographs he'd taken while flying behind enemy lines. A native's knowledge of the land was invaluable in understanding the enemy's intentions, and had given them unexpected advantages.

"Make them love you," Arthur had advised. "I don't think you will find it difficult."

Those memories spread the pain in his gut further, leaving an ache in his chest that he could not shake. How long would Arthur be away? Jaime hadn't expected his departure to affect him this much, and as his heart beat painfully, he found himself wondering  _ why. _

And why had he brought up that conversation specifically? Whenever Arthur mentioned a real event, it meant something significant. Something that lived only in their memories; something that could not be deciphered, even if their code was discovered and broken. But what could this mean?

_ You have always had mine _ , he wrote.  _ What we have may be new, but you were precious to me long before I ever dared to hope. I am grateful for every day you have allowed me into your life — more grateful than you will ever know. _

_ I thought you were a dream come true, but there is always something disappointing about dreams. So perfectly smooth and shallow that if they were made flesh, it would be dreadfully boring. No surprises, none of the joys of discovery. I would never have learned the truth of your bravery or the strength you inspire in me — that simply seeing words you have penned can bring peace to my heart. _

_ We both have suffered and sacrificed. I find myself dwelling on it, but perhaps it is only human nature to search for meaning in loss. Now more than ever, I know I must treasure all that I have, all that I love, and all that I know to be right. In that pursuit, this may not be the last time I must leave your side — I hope you can forgive me for it. It does not lessen your importance to me. _

_ Every morning when I wake I know that this is no dream — that I may look forward to a future together, full of discovery. _

He signed it with his love, and another's name.

It translated to gibberish, words stitched into sentences that meant nothing. This wasn't part of the code they'd constructed, or else it was something Jaime had forgotten. It was years ago they'd made it, in a tent in the mud, with a flask full of brandy. There could be some little-used pieces lost over the years.

Jaime stared at the paper late into the night, but could not decipher what Arthur was trying to say.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr - [peggycarterisacat-fic](https://peggycarterisacat-fic.tumblr.com/) for fic updates, [peggycarterisacat](https://peggycarterisacat.tumblr.com/) for other fandom stuff.


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